This happens to be one easy prompt for me to answer. I mean, I have had many chances to think through the times in my life and ascertain rightly the moments that shaped me and why and how it had all come to be. It's usually a story that I never like to share. It's not any horrific experience, but it wasn't totally good either. It was just a critical point in my life that led me through a path that has seen me to this point. Often times, I compare who I was then to who I am now, and sometimes, when it dawns on me that I have changed just a little in some areas, I'm torn between being happy at the progress or worrying about a few effects that the change has brought.
Image is mine
In my early teenage years, I was a calm, composed, shy kid. And I mean, the frowning, on-her-own kind who people assumed was either too proud or very confident but who in reverse, was shy, terrified of gatherings and had her fears. So, I spent more time alone. I enjoyed being by myself. I stayed indoors a lot(still haven't recovered from this) and I kept to myself. Oh, I had people in my life(read as friends). I was always lucky in friendships but it didn't stop me from zoning out when with them. Even at home, I would quietly leave my family where they're gathered outside or in the living room and go stay in the bedroom all alone. The experience was even better when it was a dark room. To this day, I enjoy darkness and the stillness and calmness it comes with. I have very sharp sense senses(of hearing) cause of this.
So, Solitude was a habit that helped me. In those quiet moments, I thought about things, I reflected on things, I calculated, recalculated, created scenarios, made up stories in my head, pictured points of views and let my mind run wild. It was no surprise that I acted, spoke, carried myself, and knew things far beyond my age. My mind was way grown than my body. And yet, it would be wrong to say that I spent all my time being by myself, staring into space and lost in the world of my mind. I read. A lot. If you ever read a post where I talk about how I once was a voracious reader who would finish a book of over a thousand pages in two days, it was then. No article, newspaper, book, magazine, passed my eyes. While at that, I wrote a lot, too. I journalled. Oh, I still have my old journals. Too bad, I hardly do any Journaling now. It's a habit that helped me, which I'd be delighted to return to with the same fierceness as I had then. To date, I still lean towards calmness cause therein I find the peace to think, listen to my inner voice, and get the best results. Reading, too, and writing still and always remains my Forte.
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